No Requiem
by Melissa Treglia
Summary: "He never should have doubted they'd find their way back to each other somehow." My entry for the 2015 fkficfest, and my pilot episode for my own Virtual Fourth Season. Written for WaltD during the fkficfest.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This was written to Walt's wildcard prompt for the 2015 FK Fic Fest on AO3/DW/LJ. The prompt requested a fic surrounding a one-off character from the series proper. Since I've always felt like Alexandra's story had been left unfinished, I started there, and combined it with my own concept of a mythical Season 4—one that builds on the supernatural elements that the series proper toyed with but never used to their full potential.

There's also the bonus of Season 3's not adhering quite as strictly to the procedural elements (ex. "Night in Question," "Sons of Belial," "Ashes to Ashes," the infamous "Last Knight"). And, since my previous attempts at writing procedural have all fallen flat, I think it's safe to say this change is a better fit for me too as a writer.

The long and short of it is that I'm picking up where LK left off—not the most fun place to be, since too many characters were either dead, scattered to the four winds, or simply enduring a hellish season. But it's always darkest before the dawn, right? I hope everyone enjoys my submission for the fkficfest this year. Comments, thoughts and gentle criticisms are welcome. Flames will be used to make s'mores. (SIDEBAR: You need not have read my Season 3 coda _Rock Bottom_ to enjoy this.)

 **Full summary:** _He never should have doubted they'd find their way back to each other somehow._ After the hellish experience of their Last Knight together, Nick and Natalie reunite as forces begin to array against them... including one very unhappy barmaid. As they consider the next step in their relationship, Natalie reveals that she has developed a strange power that others may want to use to their own ends.

* * *

 **NO REQUIEM**

by Melissa Treglia

 **Prologue**

Nick sighed, his mind bobbing up to reality from the depths of his dream. It wasn't the kind of dream that often jolted him awake, shocking him back to reality and requiring a few moments to reorient himself to the waking world. No, this was the kind of dream that was a fantasia of nameless colors and alien shapes, that held the sleeper down gently but inexorably in its enigmatic waters.

It was the kind that waking up from felt like a gasp of air after being submerged. It was the kind that, when pressed to describe, all words fade and the memory slips away like particles of sand from a broken hourglass.

The only thing that he could recall even mere moments after blinking his eyes open, was that he'd dreamed of her. Again. Not a surprise though, given that his every conscious thought had been followed by the specter of her face and the sound of her voice in his mind.

Where others might feel goaded by their subconscious with such things, Nick felt reassured. He had loved her—in the only way he could—a shadowy, distant but ever-present admirer. The lingering imprint of her upon his memory was proof enough of that.

When she had asked him to make love to her, he could hardly refuse. It was the one thing in the world he'd wanted—and feared—the most. But lovemaking as a vampire was much different than it was as a mortal; what humans considered the pinnacle was merely foreplay, as nothing compared to the darker pleasure of taking someone's life within one's own body.

He had thought she'd understood. He had explained it to her not long before that. For the first month of his (mostly) self-imposed imprisonment, he'd blamed himself for not making it more clear to her, that he wanted to love her the way she deserved but simply _couldn't_ ; the perverse logic of the vampire's drive in him was ultimately selfish and stingy with the experience of pleasure, and that pleasure could not be attained without the destruction of human life.

Now he was beginning to wonder if she _had_ understood, completely. That she had known she was playing with fire, and was willing to risk getting burnt. The snippets of memory, the impressions he had received in her blood had faded some time ago, before he'd had the fortitude to analyze them and tuck them away without coming apart at the proverbial seams.

He thought that, after six years, he'd known her well. But the truth was, for all the time he'd spent with her, for all the little crumbs of her life she'd occasionally offered up to him... he didn't really know her at all. Of course, that was because he'd been so trapped in the mire of his own guilt, and hoping that saving some lives would pay the debt he owed humanity as a whole... as if tallying up a large enough number could somehow save his soul...

He stared at the ceiling for a long moment; that similar cream-colored boarding that was supposed to be pleasant but was devoid of personality. He stared up at that blank canvas above him as if it would provide him a clue to the mystery he wanted to unravel, the inner motivations that he'd unconsciously hidden from himself while operating under the self-serving delusion that he deserved to be saved, and that it was only a matter of time...

No, he didn't _deserve_ anything. _The world doesn't owe you a damned thing for your failure to die, you idiot,_ he snarled at himself. _Your continued existence has been bought and paid for with the blood of hundreds of thousands of innocent people. Stop acting so damned entitled. The odds of you having been born in the first place are less than one-percent; it's a privilege just to be here in the first place. So start acting like it, and get your moping arse out of bed!_

The last bit sounded suspiciously like Natalie's scolding tone whenever he'd backslid, albeit a good deal more acerbic. He stretched, almost catlike in his movements, then finally hauled himself out of bed.

It was true enough that he'd overindulged in a self-pity fest for more than a month now, but that wasn't going to solve anything... and it wasn't going to bring Natalie back. Janette's brief appearance had been a sort of triage for his emotional wounds, but the pain had gone deeper even than she could reach. This was something he had to deal with for himself—and the more he laid himself up in the spare bedroom of LaCroix's latest hotel suite, the longer it would take to get through this.

That decided it: He was **_DONE_** with feeling sorry for himself. Everything that had happened in his life, he'd had a hand in and had made decisions toward. Granted, there were some really, _really_ lousy and ill-thought decisions on that very long list, but he alone was responsible for them. He couldn't lay everything at LaCroix's feet or use the vampire in him as a convenient scapegoat.

Not all his bad decisions had been due to the hunger or rage that made up that darker side of himself, or LaCroix's interference—some of it was because Nick had just been a pompous, know-it-all arsehole.

Idly, as Nick moved into the bathroom, he supposed that that was one small—if strange—step towards being human. Knowing one's limitations, perhaps... and a vague memory of something about knowing being half the battle flitted through his mind.

He stared at his refection in the mirror, scowling upon the realization that he resembled some demented mountain man on methamphetamines. _First thing's first; a shower and a shave wouldn't go amiss. Baby steps, kid. Baby steps._

* * *

After his ablutions, he decided to take a walk around the city. London could be quite beautiful, in its way. He found himself beginning to relax at the rhythmic slap of his own shoes against the damp cobblestoned pavement. There had been precipitation while he'd slept, and the air still smelled of fresh rain, even among the myriad other scents of a bustling little metropolis.

It was comforting. As much as the world changed around him, the little things stayed the same.

He turned off the main road he'd been following for the last little while and ventured down a side street. Briefly looking up, he saw the marks of human life at the windows of the apartments above. A flowerpot here, a lacy set of curtains there, or a family's beloved pet staring out the pane as if guarding their home.

That hadn't changed either. People still had families, and animals were cared for by their human owners. No one seemed to understand how deeply he longed for that normalcy... no one except Natalie, who'd thought it could happen if they both applied themselves, and worked together in the same direction.

As if his errant thought had conjured it, he caught a smell of familiar perfume. It was _Provocateur_ , the perfume he'd once given Natalie as an apology and she'd worn every day after that. It had been the smell of comfort, of friendship, of... well, Natalie. To smell it _here_ was disconcerting, to say the least.

He immediately sought out the source, his gaze rapidly cataloging his surroundings in a more thorough fashion. Half a block up ahead, a woman was walking down the street just like he was. Her long, curly hair fell loose past the shoulders of her battleship gray jacket. Her sneakers were patting against the pavement, her every stride in her pair of comfortable blue jeans light and achingly familiar.

Only one person he'd known had had that particular gait, whether in heels or flats...

He picked up his pace, his steps becoming quieter with the burst of speed. He had to know, had to _see_ , had to make sure that it was just a trick of his overtaxed mind. That this woman wasn't really who he thought she was...

He grasped her arm and, when she whirled with a shocked yell, he found himself staring into the large hazel eyes of Dr. Natalie Lambert. He found himself stumbling back a step, stunned by the revelation. She was alive!

 _She's alive! She's here!_ came the paean chant from deep within his psyche. _She's here! She's alive!_

But the question was... how?

"Natalie?" His voice was soft in entreaty.

Her stunned expression wasn't blunted any. "Who are you?"

He felt his silent heart drop into his stomach. "You... don't remember?" He took a slight breath he didn't need, and stumbled over a brief explanation, "I'm Nick. We... we've known each other for the past six years. We're... we're friends." He grew more troubled when there was no spark of recognition behind her eyes. "You must be dazed or... something."

She gave him a searching look. "We're friends?"

"Yeah."

Her voice was wispy and hesitant, as she replied, "Okay. So who am I?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _"Janette's brief appearance had been a sort of triage for his emotional wounds"_ \- This is a reference to my fic _Rock Bottom_. The ONLY reference. Told ya that you wouldn't need to read it beforehand.

The women's perfume _Provocateur_ was a plot device for the episode "Dance by the Light of the Moon" (1.06). It was worn by both Natalie and Ann Foley (the stripperific Killer of the Week), and Nick gave Nat a fresh bottle and a single red rose in apology for flirting with Ann.


	2. Act I

**NO REQUIEM**

by Melissa Treglia

 **Act I**

Nick rocked back on his heels. "You really don't remember?" As relieved as he was to find her again, he felt... wounded by being forgotten.

She shook her head, her hair falling into her eyes. She brushed the errant strands back with an absent flick of her hand. "No. But you do feel familiar to me, like a dream you can't recall when you wake up." She tilted her head inquiringly. "You know?"

 _That_ he did know.

"Are you willing to trust me, Natalie?" His stomach twisted at the thought that she wouldn't, but then he mentally kicked himself when he remembered that she wasn't—under any circumstances—obligated to trust him, even after six years... and certainly not after he'd almost killed her. ( _She's here, she's alive, she's alive, she's here..._ )

She nodded. "It would probably be more logical _not_ to trust somebody I don't know. But I feel like I should be able to. To trust you, I mean." She tugged awkwardly at the hem of her shirt, as if she were a schoolgirl waiting to be asked out on a date.

Nick stared directly into her eyes, not to bend her to his will but simply to impress upon her that he was being honest. "If you can't right now, you don't have to. I'm willing to earn back your trust."

Her tone was feather-soft after that declaration, and her hazel eyes finally met his again. "All right. So, where do we start?"

"Well, first thing's first: are you staying somewhere?"

She looked puzzled by that question, but nodded.

"Okay. Then I'll walk you home and, if you're willing, we could sit down and talk about it?" He then rushed through another quick explanation. "I mean... because there's a lot to talk about, and you'll want to be sitting down for it." _Oh God, please don't let her think I'm a stalker/rapist because I'm asking to be let into her new place, wherever it is. I know I'm not the poster-boy for healthy relationships, but still..._

She gave him a demure smile, apparently ignorant to his inner turmoil. Or, she might have read it quite clearly and chose to take pity on him by not commenting on it. He wasn't exactly sure which one he'd rather it be. "So... heavy discussion, huh?" Her voice was still in that quiet, gentle cadence—a sound as comforting to him as sitting before a roaring fire contained in his old, beloved hearth.

He nodded. "Yeah. A lot's happened in six years." _Understatement of the century, that._

She blew her breath out in a gusty exhale, as her eyes unfocused. That expression warmed him with its familiarity—she always got that far-away look when she was turning something over in her mind, analyzing it from every angle. "Well, I'll have to tackle it sometime. So, let's walk."

Without prompting, she threaded her hand against his side, holding onto his arm. The feeling of her warm fingers on him, even separated by several layers of fabric, made his quiet heart thud painfully for a moment. Amnesia or no, as long as they were together, there was a chance that things would turn out all right. ( _she's here she's alive she's alive she's here_ )

In his peripheral vision, he saw a brief flash of something white, but when he turned his gaze directly upon where he'd seen it, whatever it was was already gone.

Natalie, as perceptive as ever, had caught his moment of consternation. "What's wrong?"

Nick frowned. "It's probably nothing." He turned to her, and gave her a smile that he doubted could actually fool her. "I've been... well, a little on-edge lately, so I'm probably spooking myself."

Her brow furrowed in thought, like she wanted to argue against that remark, but she didn't say anything. Instead she told him, "I'm just a couple blocks from here. I was on my way back."

They fell into step, his normally long strides instinctively shortened to accommodate hers. It felt as natural as breathing, walking beside her and hearing the soft sigh of her every breath. The warmth of her hand on his arm seemed to reach further into him than mere flesh, thawing out what had become as cold and dead as a frozen lake deep within him.

He never should have doubted they'd find their way back to each other somehow. Vaguely, a line from some movie he'd seen on television back in Toronto, on a day when sleep had eluded him, came to mind: "Death cannot stop true love—it can only delay it for awhile."

A strangely fitting notion, that love could outlast even death. His years of keeping a lid on his affections out of fear seemed rather silly and childish now. She was here, beside him. They were together again.

Future and past alike could both be damned, anyway. They had right now, and that was all that really mattered.

* * *

But the past doesn't let go so easily. Try though he might, he couldn't stop the images that continued to haunt his mind intermittently, the screams of the dying that echo down the pages of history. He knew he'd never stop regretting the things he'd done—and, worse, that he'd enjoyed them at the time.

Being with Natalie made him feel like a little less of a monster. She was the only one who'd truly believed he could be more than what he was. She had given his life meaning.

It was strange how this one woman had turned everything in his long existence on its head, even as he'd done the same to her safe human life. He'd made no presumptions that he could give her anything, or indeed that there was anything he had that she valued—except for his love for her, that was what she had always wanted.

It wasn't something that he could show her... at least, not in the usual, physical manner of normal, human couples in love. What had happened their last night together had proven it.

But he could show her his love in other ways and, maybe, that could be enough.

Right now, she was lost from herself, and he would do everything within his power to bring her back. As he gently explained all that had happened in the last six years that he'd known her, her eyes—always so beautifully expressive—widened in shock at some points. Her breath and pulse sped up at other moments but, for the most part, she seemed to handle it fairly well, considering...

"So, let me get this straight," she announced as she slid forward in her recliner, her body shaking slightly with agitation. She held up her thumb, beginning to tick off points. "I was a coroner and, when I was working late, you—a vampire—sat up on my table but, instead of screaming my head off and running away, I stuck around to chat."

She added her index finger. "My little brother died, but you brought him back by turning him into a vampire, but then had to kill him because he started eating people."

She ticked off her middle finger. "Your vampire father hates me because I'm trying to make you human again, and has threatened us away from pursuing a relationship."

She continued, adding her ring finger. "Your vampire ex-girlfriend was human for awhile because of some old wives' tale that's been circulating for centuries, but turned back because she lost the baby."

She finally ticked off her pinkie finger. "Then, when you said you were going to leave me, I asked you to try the same thing she did, but you ended up draining me. And your vampire dad took you away and... somehow I'm alive, but you have no idea how?" Dropping her hand, she asked, "Have I got all of that right?"

He nodded.

"Wow. This is _so_ messed up."

Nick gave a humorless laugh. "You'll get no arguments from me."

"I still can't get over the fact that I basically asked you to kill me." She shook her head. "Was I high that night? Or drunk? Or... I don't know, suffering from a concussion?"

"No. You weren't. But you were desperate, and I was in no condition to refuse you."

"Wow. That makes the old me sound like a bit of a bitch."

Nick replied hastily, "I didn't mean it that way." He'd never pictured her in that way; determined and opinionated, yes. But those were good qualities to possess whether male or female. A bitch, as far as he was concerned, was still a female dog... and not a human woman with a mind of her own.

Natalie shrugged. "I know you didn't. But I did." She stood and began to pace along the hardwood floor, looking increasingly infuriated with herself. "I mean... manipulating you into biting me? That's something a teenager would do." When she took in his puzzled expression, she supplied, "You know, get her boyfriend to sleep with her, so she'll get knocked up and he'll stick around to help her raise the kid. Which never actually works, of course, but some girls still try it out of some delusions of a happily ever-after." She shook her head again, in disgust. "I can't believe I did that! What the hell was I _thinking?!_ "

"Neither of us were," Nick replied as gently as he could. "It was a very bad night, all round."

"Well, that explains why you look like hammered crap."

His gaze became more of a glare. That comment, while probably an accurate summation, was rather on the insulting side. "I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, being immortal and all, I'm guessing your eyes don't usually pack their own luggage." She pointed at the skin underneath her own eyes, as a visual indicator of what she meant. The accompanying smile she gave him was apologetic; she clearly hadn't meant to offend him.

He genuinely laughed at that. "I'd almost forgotten how colorful you could be." He then sighed, and let his shoulders drop into a more relaxed position, feeling the weight of... well, everything, really. "I haven't slept well in some time."

"You must have had some pretty nasty dreams." Her tone became gentle, and she dropped down onto the couch beside him.

"I always do."

"Can I take a wild stab and say that it's memories of your _extremely_ misspent youth?"

"Of course," he replied. "But how'd you know?"

"Well, the fact that you want to be human tells me you're not happy the way you are and, well, five'll get you ten that you were no boy-scout back in the day." She shrugged. "Even in the myths, vampires aren't exactly known for their random acts of kindness."

"You remember those? The myths?"

"Well, yeah," Natalie replied. "I remember my ABCs, my addition and subtraction, all the provincial capitals in Canada, who's the president of the United States, OJ Simpson's trial—and I kinda wish I didn't on that last one. And yeah, I remember all the faerie tales and myths I heard as a kid." She looked down at her hands and began to pick at some tiny speck of dirt that had found its way under one of her otherwise pristine nails. "I just don't remember you. But it'll come back to me soon. I hope."

She gently placed her hand on his, and lightly squeezed his fingers. He wasn't entirely certain who she was trying to reassure at that moment—him or herself.

"I'm not quite sure what I've ever done to be worthy of your trust, but I'll do everything I can to earn it," Nick vowed.

"I know you will."

"You do?"

Her smile widened a bit. "I have a feeling." Releasing his hand, she sighed and got to her feet. "I'm gonna need a human moment," she said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the bathroom. "If you don't mind waiting on me, we could talk some more."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere until you say otherwise."

Natalie nodded and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind her but leaving it unlocked. After her more immediate concerns were relieved, she washed her hands and then opened the medicine cabinet. Briefly glancing through the various bottles, she pulled one she found suitable from its shelf.

The headaches were steadily becoming more frequent, bringing with them an odd cornucopia of memories—thoughts, images, smells and sensations—that didn't feel like hers. And they hurt as they began to blindside her with greater frequency.

Her sigh was a more pained and tired one as, with the running water to conceal the rattle, she shook two pills into her palm and popped them into her mouth. Cupping her hand under the faucet's flow gave her just enough water to help her swallow the pills. Once she swallowed them, she took a breath and leaned against the counter, as if willing the medicine to be absorbed faster.

Trying to think back as best she could, the pieces were slowly starting to reassemble themselves. But there were still too many gaps, spaces, and bits that didn't make sense. Some of the memories were only sound bites—others, merely a brief visual with no indication as to its placement.

Nick's explanations had helped a good deal, but there were still too many pieces still hidden or tangled up among other parts. What most worried her was the time-gap between Nick biting her and the morning she woke up in this apartment. It was like someone had put duct tape over that time—to block it out rather than hold it in place.

It didn't feel like a genuine fog in her mind, but one that had been built in. But what was it meant to conceal? And what would someone powerful enough to alter a resistor's memories need to hide?

Gently rubbing her forehead with her damp hand, she eventually splashed some more water on her face. Turning off the faucet, she grabbed a towel to dry her face and hands. Absently dropping the towel back on the rack behind the door, she exited the bathroom.

Nick looked up at her from where he had remained seated. "Are you okay? You look beat."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Natalie replied with a quiet laugh. "I guess it's getting close to my bedtime." When Nick stood to leave, she quickly added, "You don't have to go. I mean... if you don't want to. I... just don't want to be alone right now."

Nick nodded. "Okay. I'll stay with you."

Natalie quickly glanced at the windows, her brow furrowing. "Are the drapes thick enough or do I need to add a few bed-sheets to it?"

Nick followed her gaze to the thick drapes on her new apartment's windows, which seemed to be simple, modern and solid maroon in color. But their thickness and the quality of the fabric indicated they had been designed specifically to block out the sun. "Well, if the whole place is fitted with these, I'll be just fine. Otherwise, I'll just need to know what rooms I need to stay out of."

Natalie laughed, blushing a little. "Yeah. I wouldn't want my first house guest to be extra crispy when I wake up later." Briefly worrying at her lower lip, she then exclaimed, "Oh, rats! I don't have any extra blankets for you!"

Nick's response was accompanied by a chuckle. "I'm sure I'll survive."

"Oh. Okay."

"I'll be on the couch if you need me," Nick told her. Impulsively, he grabbed her hand and lifted it to kiss the back, his cool lips brushing against her warm skin. She smiled at him as he released her hand. "Good night."

"Sweet dreams."

With that, she padded into the bedroom for a day's rest.

* * *

Nick had drifted into a light doze when he heard the sound of crying issuing from Natalie's bedroom. He shot to his feet at the sound and, without a second thought, hurried to her bedroom.

He was almost relieved when he realized she was alone; as he peered around the door and into her room, he could see she was caught in the grip of a bad dream, shifting uneasily in her sleep as if resisting an unseen foe. The fear-filled sounds that she was making were more painful to him than a stake to the heart, and just as debilitating.

A few times she moaned what sounded like, "No... please. Not him."

He couldn't simply watch through whatever torment her mind was making her experience. After quietly entering the room, he eased himself onto her bed. He reclined next to her, leaning back against the headboard. He caught one of her hands as it began to flail. At his touch, she seemed to calm down, turning into his side as if pleading for protection. It was a plea he didn't even offer up a token resistance against.

She needed him and he would not fail her on that account. He'd already failed her once, and that was enough. He wouldn't make the same mistake a second time. He could stay here with her all day, if it meant she slept soundly. The bed was small but, if one didn't mind the physical closeness, it could still fit two people. The covers were also soft and quite comfortable and the bed, though a simple box spring, was actually not at all hard on the body.

He would just have to be patient, waiting for her to wake up when she was ready, and in the meantime he'd focus on keeping her safe. She needed to be safe. He would _make_ the world safe for her. Whatever in the waking world was frightening to her would be his mortal enemy. If he couldn't be the man she deserved, then he could at least plow the road for her.

And for now, that meant holding her hand as she slept.

Though he meant well, he didn't get to sleep at all that day.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _"Amnesia or no, as long as they were together [...]"_ \- A somewhat oblique reference to "Night in Question" (3.10) AKA the episode where Nick got shot in the head and lost his memory.

 _"it can only delay it for awhile."_ A slight paraphrasing of a quote from the film _The Princess Bride_ (1987).

 _"I was a coroner and, when I was working late, you—a vampire—sat up on my table [...]"_ Refers to the flashback sequences in "Only the Lonely" (1.17).

 _"My little brother died, but you brought him back by turning him into a vampire [...]"_ Main plot of "I Will Repay" (1.10).

 _"Your vampire father [...] threatened us away from pursuing a relationship."_ Main plot of "Be My Valentine" (2.23).

 _"Your vampire ex-girlfriend was human for awhile [...]"_ Main plot of "The Human Factor" (3.16), mashed up with the legend from "Baby, Baby" (2.14).

The President of the United States at this time was Bill Clinton (two terms, 1993-2001). His impeachment trial didn't begin until December 1998, during the first year of his second term.

Orenthal James "O. J." Simpson, an American football star, was arrested for the murder of his wife Nicole Brown Simpson on 6/17/94, and was subsequently acquitted on 10/3/95. The trial was an EXTREMELY high profile case that deluged the media throughout North America, with every major news network and paper covering the proceedings from stem to stern during that time.


	3. Act II

**NO REQUIEM**

by Melissa Treglia

 **Act II**

Nick's sensitive hearing easily picked up the sound of the light rain drizzling down on the streets outside, and the tiny beads of water intermittently striking the window panes. The rhythm of the falling precipitation was oddly soothing to the tired vampire's mind as he studiously avoided focusing on the sound of Natalie's heart.

Her warm body curled into him was both heaven and hell. It was heaven because he had her so close to him, and he could note her every breath—and it was hell for the very same reason, with the all too familiar thirst for both her body and blood burning inside of him. But he wouldn't have traded it for anything in this world or any other.

Even so, he couldn't forget the taste of her blood on his lips. It had been better than anything he'd ever tasted, warm and filled with love and sweetness—feelings meant only for him. There had been an edge of fear, yes, but there had been only a little of it and it had added spice to the ambrosia that had flowed from her veins and into his gullet. And that taste had made him want more, and more, and more...

He'd been shocked out of the pleasure of taking her into himself at the sight of her body lying too still on the floor of his loft. He couldn't afford to lose control like that again—they had been lucky this time, but nonetheless it was a bad idea to even consider doing that again.

He still couldn't wrap his head around how Janette had managed to do it; Janette had taken only a little from Robert. In the centuries he and Janette had been together, she had been a self-professed glutton, never taking some when she could have all. Yet, she had been able to stop with Robert. How?

They had tried, and he'd almost killed Natalie in the process. It was likely a combination of the right place and right time along with sheer dumb luck that she was even alive.

He couldn't lose her, not after it had taken eight hundred years to find someone like her. She was special; though he'd had friends, brief flirtations and distractions alike, none suited him as he was now quite the way she did.

If there was a way for them to be together, it had to be a safer route. He would never wager her life against the prospect of mortality ever again. Nothing was worth that price.

She was the one who gave him the proverbial smack on the head when he'd crossed the line, the one who jollied him out of a morose mood, and consoled him when he was in pain. She wasn't a perfect person, but she was perfect for him.

He'd give her all the moons of the solar system on a diamond chain if she asked him to. Of course, she rarely asked for anything from him—and that made him love her all the more. She had believed in him from the start, and being with her made him feel the closest he'd been to being alive in eight centuries. She was everything to him.

So, despite being the greatest danger to both her tender heart and soft flesh, he nonetheless guarded her sleep so she would rest easier.

Her breathing was not quite heavy enough to be considered snoring, and her nose briefly scrunched as if she was displeased at something she'd seen in the theatre of her mind. But her sleep was undisturbed and, with him anchoring her to the bed, she didn't toss around in her sleep.

Natalie finally woke up around three in the afternoon. Her brow furrowed when she realized that she was practically laying on top of Nick, curled up against him as if they'd spent years sharing the same bed. "Huh," she mused, looking rather adorably rumpled as she gazed up at him. "So I finally got you into my bedroom, and I was too unconscious to remember it."

"You were having a bad dream," he explained, absently running his hand along her bare arm, leaving goosebumps along her flesh in the wake of his fingers. She shivered at the coolth of his touch, but her body warmed a little more in response to it. He smiled as she toyed with the lapel of his shirt; she wasn't attempting to seduce him, merely occupying her hands in something relatively harmless, and it had hardly been the first time she'd ever messed with his clothing. He gently grasped those plucking fingers and placed a brief kiss on the pads of her middle and index fingers, before returning them to his shirt lapel. "You seemed to calm down with me here." He smiled, adding lightly, "Don't worry, I was a perfect gentleman. You'd _definitely_ remember it if I wasn't. Your virtue is uncontested."

"Darn. I was hoping for at least something mildly scandalous." Her eyes danced with merriment, and one side of her mouth quirked in the hint of a smile. "And as for my virtue, well... it's been awhile since I had that."

He smirked. "Good. I prefer a woman with experience." Then he clicked his tongue against his teeth in obvious flirtation. "Maybe next time we can get up to no good."

"Promises, promises," Natalie replied dryly. "Don't make them if you can't keep them." She then grinned at him and sat up; he immediately squashed the sense of loss he felt at the broken contact. She yawned mightily, her jaw giving a brief but loud pop. Her mouth then closed with a faint click of her teeth.

As she began to stretch, he asked, "Do you remember what you dreamed? Anything at all?"

Now rubbing the sleep dust out of her eyes, she replied, "Yeah. I do. And it wasn't just a dream." Running a hand nervously through her hair, she added, "There was someone. A woman. I think her name was Alice, or Alex, or... something. She was wearing white." Her expression was a deeply worried one, as she finally said, "And she was _really_ pissed off at you."

Nick's eyes widened and he swallowed hard, while hoping that Natalie was too distracted by her own turmoil to pick up on his reaction. Off the top of his head, he knew of one woman he'd come into contact within the past six years who fit that description all too well. "Alexandra?"

Her head bobbed in agreement, and Nat then threw the bed covers off of herself. She was becoming jittery and anxiety was rolling off her in waves. "Yeah. That sounds right."

The thought of Alexandra returning to complete her vow to exact revenge from him left Nick feeling that much colder. He had something to lose now; if Natalie was right and Alexandra showed up, he needed to keep her as far away from Natalie as possible. His professional and personal association with Natalie, though it definitely had its upsides, often resulted with her having a metaphorical target on her back—one that seemed to spell out, _I'm the repentant vampire's best girl; please kidnap, threaten or otherwise abuse me if you require his attention!_

"It must be a memory coming back to you. Alexandra came after me a few years back, but she failed, and I haven't seen her since." He gave a slight hitch to his shoulders and straightened his posture against the headboard, then began absently drumming his hand on his knee. His eyes never left her as she paced restlessly, the entirety of her body communicating her agitation as loudly as a lit billboard sign on the freeway.

He'd seen enough strange things in his time that he didn't question that she was getting 'bad vibes' about Alexandra. Nonetheless, he couldn't exactly go in blind, either—and the fact that she was likely to doubt the veracity of the dream as a premonition, he couldn't press her too hard either. This was a finesse job; it required more delicate handling. "You weren't there for the showdown, though... unless you still have some of my memories from when I bit you. Maybe they're mixing in with your own."

Now Natalie was shaking her head, and her glance at him was wary. Her hands found their way again into her hair; a nervous habit she couldn't always suppress. "This is gonna sound completely and utterly insane," she said, her voice carrying a strained note. "But it didn't _feel_ like a memory."

That decided him. Forewarned was forearmed, after all. "You think she'll try again?"

"Maybe. I don't know. But I feel like you should be very careful. She's _really_ not happy with you."

* * *

 _The quiet but inexorable tear of sharp teeth through flesh that could offer no resistance. The shock and dizziness swirling through a panicking mind as death takes the form of a lover. The lightness and emptiness of such a fragile human body as the monster who took your blood, your life, is sated by such a dreadful deed._

 _The demon with the face of an angel leaves you to die._

 _Then there's nothingness. Time passes... or maybe it's stopped, you don't know. Then a voice—a man, but not_ his _voice—calling out to you, "Come, Alexandra. Open your eyes to the darkness. Your new life beyond death awaits you."_

 _You see your maker; tall, white-haired, with stern features and a devil's smile. Rage flows through your now immortal veins at how weak you were, how naive you had been. But this other creature, your maker, has given you the power to take your vengeance. The one who first gave you death must die._

 _But the angel-faced demon is so much stronger than yourself, so you must be clever. You will wait until you have strength of your own. And then you will show no mercy._

 _But first, you feel the hunger, ripping through your stomach, surging in your veins, a burning inferno in your throat. So you feast—you take as he had taken from you. You don't stop to think of the irony._

 _All you know is your taste for blood—and for revenge._

* * *

Nick had remained seated on her bed, patient as Natalie went through her morning routine. Of course, with him there, she chose to get dressed in the bathroom following her shower. She came out smelling of apple shampoo and the ever-present _Provocateur_ perfume, and he smiled at her as he breathed in the mix of scents. Her manner of dress was simple—a long sunny and floral skirt paired with a plain white shirt and her gray jacket.

Even better, she'd seemed to calm herself during her shower. She was cleared-eyed and her expression was that _look_ she got when she was putting a puzzle together—that inquisitive, but certain and level-headed expression that made her seem to have been formed from cast iron and emerged from the mind of Zeus fully formed.

She had left her shoes in the bedroom, however. As she sat on the edge of the bed and wedged the simple clog-like contraptions onto her feet, she told him, "I'm starting to remember more now."

He sat up straight, angling himself closer to her, as if he could bodily shield her from her more painful memories. She was a strong woman, of that he had no doubt, but he knew there had also been a lot of pain in her life—and that knowledge was only based on what she had told him. Heaven above only knew what else she _hadn't_ told him over the years. "Like what?"

"Valentine's Day." Natalie's voice was quiet. "I remember that you lied to him, said you didn't love me. You did it to protect me. But he knows the truth now, doesn't he?" Her large, expressive eyes gazed up at him with fear in their depths, which made him want to enfold her tightly in his embrace so that nothing could touch her. "You were willing to die for me. He's... he's not going to forget that, is he?" She leaned close and dropped her head against his shoulder, seeking what comfort he could give. Her auburn hair fell to conceal her face.

Nick sighed, and gently tucked her hair back behind her ear. LaCroix was yet another obstacle for them to surmount... as if they hadn't had enough of those over the past six years. "We'll deal with whatever happens, when it happens." His fingers combed through the wild, still-damp locks of her hair gently. He'd always loved the thick, soft texture of her hair; it was the kind that most people spent hundreds of dollars on various products and paid professionals to obtain. As he continued to run his hand through her hair, his fingers strayed to the back of her neck and hit something... metallic?

The reaction to that light brush of flesh upon metal was instantaneous—a low current of electricity zapped his fingers, as Natalie gave a thin, startled yelp.

He immediately jerked his hand away. "I'm sorry!" he cried, his words rushed as he attempted to soothe her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"I know," she panted, still wincing at the electrical shock. Her eyes were wide as she glanced up at him. "But what the hell _was_ that?"

"I don't know. It's something on the back of your neck. Do you mind if I take a better look?"

"Okay... just don't touch it."

"I won't."

Natalie took a deep breath and, turning her back to him, she gathered her auburn hair into her hands, lifting it up and away from her neck, and holding it in a pile on top of her head.

Cautiously, he leaned toward her, afraid to even breathe upon the back of her neck. As he examined the area more closely, he saw a faint raise of the skin that the human eye wouldn't be able to detect. It resembled a ring shape, with a thin line bisecting the raised ring. He frowned. With the thing being _under_ the skin and not directly _on_ it, there would be no way to remove it without cutting her skin open.

Given how little protective layering or muscle there was in the human neck, he was willing to bet every penny in his Luxembourg account that this _thing_ was embedded in her spine. Nick found himself grinding his teeth at the notion of some stranger putting something unnatural inside her body.

He kept his voice calm and steady for her benefit. "Have you ever gotten a shock there before?"

"No. Not until you touched it." He could hear the worry in her voice, and her shoulders tensed. "Why? What is it?"

"I'm not sure. There's something under the skin but, without knowing for sure how far down it goes, it's too risky to remove it." He sighed and sat back—though he was internally making a list of things he'd like to do to the person or people who'd gotten their hands on her, with each scenario progressively more ludicrous than the last. "You can put your hair down now."

She released her hair, so the wild curls once again cascaded down her shoulders. She combed her fingers through her hair, straightening her hair as best she could, and then turned back to him. "I guess that's another thing for our to-do list."

"I guess so." His eyes narrowed as he contemplated the thing's existence. "I want to know who put it there and _why_."

* * *

The machines beeping with robotic efficiently merely provided background noise in the busy laboratory. A man in a wrinkled white lab coat—and who'd clearly skipped a few shaves as well as some much-needed sleep—was observing one particular terminal with the keen interest of one whose entire career had been in preparation for the results of this particular experiment.

"Her vitals are normal—her heartbeat's a little fast but her blood pressure's regular. Oxygen intake is good; no shortness of breath or hyperventilation," he reported to the woman beside him, after he'd tapped several keys to bring up the necessary information on the computer screen.

Unlike the lab technician, the woman was impeccably turned out in a smart three-piece suit, and her light brown hair was in a no-nonsense straight cut that just barely brushed against her shoulders. She looked more like she had stepped out of a financial magazine than anything else. "When do we get a bead on him?" Her tone was as no-nonsense as her appearance, and her arms crossed over her breasts in impatience. Her high-heeled foot began tapping a staccato rhythm as she awaited his response.

The lab tech cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, Miss Owens, we should give them a few days to settle—then we can see what happens with the prototype. And, once we're sure, we can move to the next phase."

Miss Owens sighed. "Crap. The contact's been established, but without Phase Two already underway, I can't notify the Administration." The tapping shifted to her drumming her fingers on the pristine counter top.

The lab tech stammered, wilting slightly at her displeasure, "Well, the implant's a prototype, ma'am. We still need to kick the tires."

Miss Owens gave an all too human growl of frustration. "What we need is a way to confirm that he's the one we've been looking for! For God's sake, Harlan, you've got all these expensive toys and you can't get a simple ID fix?!"

Harlan the overworked technician seemed to crumple even further at her outright censure. "Look, Miss Owens, we can have the testing done by the end of the week." At her glare, he added quickly, "Uh, maybe in two or three days if I really pushed?"

Miss Owens rubbed her forehead, her demeanor more tired and irritable than before, if that was possible. "Great, so we have to wait and see until you can get the hookup online. We need to be on schedule for the next phase." She jabbed a finger in his face. "You've got two more days. My client needs this job done, and I am _not_ putting my ass on the line for _you_."

Harlan coughed, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Yes, ma'am. Will do."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _"Janette had taken only a little from Robert."_ \- "The Human Factor," again.

 _professed glutton, never taking some when she could have all."_ \- "I Will Repay," again.

 _"[...] emerged from the mind of Zeus fully formed."_ \- The birth of Athena, the ancient Greek goddess of wisdom and battle strategy.

 _"Valentine's Day."_ \- "Be My Valentine," again.

 _"[...] he was willing to bet every penny in his Luxembourg account [...]"_ \- The account Nick transferred the De Brabant Foundation's monetary assets into, after his Swiss account was hacked in "Blood Money" (2.17).

The flashbacks in this fic are the flashbacks from the episode "Fatal Mistake" (1.21), written in second-person POV. This was the only episode where Alexandra appeared.


	4. Act III

**NO REQUIEM**

by Melissa Treglia

 **Act III**

Nick could sense that the sun was going down even with the drapes blocking the windows. The rain was also coming down harder now, and Natalie's continuous, restless pacing provided a counter-beat to the percussive taps of the raindrops on the windows. At the moment, the fact that he was being the more logical and sensible one of the pair made him feel like he'd taken a tumble down Alice's rabbit hole to Wonderland.

Natalie's clomping about was starting to wear on him, though he'd never tell her so—or even admit it to himself. He was half-convinced he'd end up with motion sickness if he continued to watch her as she kept going back and forth. Either that, or _she'd_ be the one to get the motion sickness.

"Natalie, you're going to wear a hole in the floor. Or in your shoes."

"I can't just sit here and wonder what the hell's going on!" she fumed, arms flailing wildly and her glare at him verging on murderous. It would have been quite comical if he wasn't so worried about her.

"Natalie..."

"Dammit, Nick! I can't understand how you're taking this so calmly!"

"Nat, the only reason I'm calm is because I can see for myself that you're alive and kicking right now." At her annoyed harrumph, he added, "And if you dropped in front of me right now, I'd go to hell and back to find out what happened and why."

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. He simply met her gaze evenly. He wasn't about to be intimidated by someone smaller than himself—while, like every other male on the planet, studiously ignoring the fact that he sometimes _was_ intimidated by a woman, and this one in particular. Natalie could be frightening for such a small thing when she was on the warpath, and Nick would never breathe a word of that fact to anyone, _ever_.

Instead, he replied to her complaint in a mild tone, "Being calm is not the same thing as being passive, Nat." When her expression lost its ferocity and her arms dropped to her sides in defeat, he patted the couch cushion beside him entreatingly. "So, why don't we focus on what we can deal with right now? Okay?"

"Like my dream?" Her tone and expression were sour as she dropped onto the couch beside him. She crossed her arms over her chest, her annoyance not abating any. Thankfully, her glare was a little less poisonous and she seemed less likely to jump down his throat. At least, for the moment.

"Like your dream," he agreed, tilting his head to regard her. "You said it didn't feel like a memory. Perhaps, it could have been a vision?"

"A vision? Like... like I can see the future?" Her eyes widened, and it didn't take a vampire's acute sight to note that she was distinctly terrified of that notion. "But I've never had that kind of power before! Hell, I don't _want_ that kind of power! That's... that's just not me!"

Nick shrugged in response, and decided to stick primarily to the facts. Perhaps telling her of certain ideas wafting around among vampire-kind would ease her mind a bit and help her puzzle it out a little more logically. After all, while there wasn't any precedent, there _were_ possibilities.

"Well, there _is_ a theory that's been going around in the community for the last fifty years or so. The idea is that those mortals most resistant to post-hypnotic suggestion are those who have some kind of mental abilities themselves."

"Like a psychic?"

"Yeah. Like a psychic." He smiled reassuringly.

"But... I mean, don't get me wrong," she stammered, still a little panicky, but slowly losing the momentum of her argument. "I'm not dismissing the concept of psychic powers. I can remember how I used to work with psychics before. But _me_ having that kind of ability? I'm not Psychic Friends Network material!"

"And how would you know that?" Nick pointed out. "Part of the theory is that the resistor's extra-sensory perceptions—whatever form they may take—will remain dormant until they've been successfully activated. Members of the community have been trying for years to prove that part of the theory, and to figure out exactly _how_ they can be activated." Nick's voice softened and, when she wilted, he put his arms around her comfortingly. "For you, that might very well mean visions of future events. You're a powerful resistor so, according to the theory, you'll have particularly powerful abilities." When she gave him a wary glance, he added, "That isn't necessarily a bad thing, Nat. Especially if it's something that's always been a part of you. You're a good person—there's nothing about you that could ever be bad."

There was a long moment of silence between them. Natalie burrowed her head against his shoulder; he heard the softness of her breathing, and the cadence of her heart slowing down into a steadier rhythm. The tension in her seemed to unwind like the spring on a music box. "I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice muffled against his shirt. "I'm just..." and she stopped.

"It's okay, Nat. I'm here," he soothed. "I promised I won't leave you, and I won't." He tucked his chin against her hair, and whispered, "You don't know how much I've missed you, love."

He wasn't sure if she heard him say it, but it didn't matter. It needed to be said whether she was consciously aware or not.

Natalie sighed, but seemed to have unruffled her metaphorical feathers a little. She pulled away from him just enough to look up at him. "So, being drained to the point of death could 'wake up' a resistor's powers." She pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. After a moment, she took a deep calming breath, and said, "Okay, I think I'm starting to get the picture now."

"Nat, I'm sor—," he began.

"Oh, don't you even start with another round of that, buster!" She glared at him again, jerking out of his grasp and jumping to her feet. Considerably relieved that she had stopped feeling sorry for herself and was more full of her usual piss and vinegar, Nick didn't offer up even a token resistance to her strident accusation. "Nick, stop beating yourself up over doing _exactly_ what I asked you to! As far as I'm concerned, what's done is done! End of discussion!" She gave a sharp exhale that told of her exasperation far more eloquently than her previous diatribe.

Internally satisfied that he'd distracted her, he kept up his poker face and replied with a demure, "Okay."

She sighed again and dropped back down onto the couch beside him, as if even that much fight had drained her of her energy. "So...anyway, I'm psychic now?" she wondered, before adding dryly, "I guess I should be thanking you for that."

Just when he thought he was beginning to understand her better, that comment definitely knocked him for a loop. "Huh?"

She smirked at him, seeming glad that she had finally unsettled him from his previously blasé demeanor. "It means we've got an early-warning system in here, tiger," she said, tapping a finger against her forehead. Then she laughed at her own joke.

He smiled, glad that she was no longer so out of sorts. Humor had always been her best defense and, after so long of both of them having so few things to laugh at, the fact that they could joke around again was an acknowledgment that they had both turned a corner. Things were getting better, however gradually that might be.

Unfortunately, there were still a truckload of issues between them and around them to be resolved, but it was best to handle one crisis at a time. For the sake of their combined sanity, if nothing else. Taking care of said issues would take time and, right now, that was the one thing they had in abundance.

Nick glanced toward the windows, instinctively but unnecessarily; he already felt the night falling, the sun receding from the earth so those who dwell by night could come out and play. He got to his feet, absently brushing some nonexistent lint from his bomber jacket after shrugging it on. "I'm going out. I'll be back in a little while."

Natalie stood up and followed him to the door like an attention-starved kitten. "You're going? Going where? _Why?_ "

"I'm going back to the hotel to talk to LaCroix. Maybe he knows something."

Natalie snorted, and Nick smiled in spite of the seriousness of the moment. He knew she was completely convinced that LaCroix was the very pinnacle of evil and Nick would never be able to convince her otherwise. "As if he's just gonna willingly hand the information over to you." She grasped his arm, adding hopefully, "Or you could just stay here. Here's nice."

"Nat, I won't be gone long," he explained patiently, while wondering at her sudden case of separation anxiety, before deciding to set that particular puzzle aside for later. "I'll only be out for a few hours." When Natalie opened her mouth to protest, he gave her a quick, affectionate buss on the cheek. "Don't worry, I'll watch my back while I'm out."

"You know," she called after him, as he took to the air. "That's not as comforting as you think it sounds!"

* * *

Nick found his way above the fogged and rainy London streets, back to the hotel that LaCroix had taken up as his temporary residence. The route was now imprinted upon Nick's mind, his memory and enhanced senses guiding him back to the right building, and flying enabled him to cut a shorter and more direct path to the hotel that would be impossible on the street.

The weather provided a counter balance to the ease of his usual flight patterns, but he still got to the hotel in record time, if made somewhat soggy by the rain.

He landed on the roof and, entering the service door, he went down several flights of stairs—dropping down through the gap in the center of the stairwell rather than using the stairs like a mortal would. Flying was definitely the sole aspect of being a vampire that he'd actually miss. Well, that and the near-indestructibility.

After that, Nick simply strode down the hall leading to the suite he'd shared for the last few days with LaCroix. At LaCroix's door, he sighed and then knocked. The sooner this was over with, the sooner he could get back to Natalie.

"Come in, Nicholas."

Nick opened the door and, after only _just_ moving past the threshold, stood quietly watching LaCroix as he reclined in a chair and read some leather-bound tome (though, somewhat savagely, Nick wondered if it might be _Oedipus Rex_ ). LaCroix seemed in no hurry to greet the younger man, but eventually did put down his book.

Folding his long pale hands together, his patrician features inscrutable, LaCroix finally said, "And how was the good doctor this evening? Did you find her well?"

As Nick's nerves had already been frayed to the breaking point, he growled and lunged at LaCroix, grabbing the master vampire by the lapel of his suit jacket. "Did you know she was here?!"

"I had only heard she was wandering about here in London. I'm delighted to see the information I was provided with was correct," LaCroix replied, coolly brushing Nick's hands away. He then gave a light tug on the bottom of his shirt, straightening it out as if it were never unsettled. "And don't bother lying, Nicholas—I know you were with her, because I can smell her stench all over you."

As Nick bridled at the insult on Natalie's behalf, LaCroix was merely dismissive. "Really, Nicholas. Must you be so melodramatic? I only wish to know if she is well."

"She's fine, no thanks to you." Nick glared at him, but wisely added nothing else aloud to his already snippy comment. His thoughts, however, were a string of furious invective that would be unprintable in any language.

LaCroix shrugged. "As you like." LaCroix then got up from his comfortable chair in one smooth movement to tower over his progeny, causing Nick to instinctively take a step back. The master vampire continued, "Now, while I'm gratified to see that you've found something to occupy your time beyond moping about like a tortured adolescent in your room, I can't help but wonder why you've chosen to speak with me at this time."

"What did your font of information tell you about Natalie?"

LaCroix gave another one of his customary unperturbed shrugs. "Merely that she was being treated in a highly exclusive wing of one of the local hospitals. I had contacted certain others to dispose of her body, but apparently they had found that she had begun to rally. They brought her here after her condition stabilized, so she'd be as far away from Toronto as possible and her death could be easily faked, if need be. You understand.

"Clearly she must be doing quite well for you to be so... invigorated." LaCroix cocked an eyebrow at his protege. "Tell me, does she still hold affection for you, now that she knows the unvarnished truth of what you are? And are you still holding onto the quixotic notion that you have a place in her world?"

At Nick's silent glare, LaCroix chuckled. "Naturally. What young love possesses in fervor, it tends to lack in common sense."

"You don't know anything else about this?" Nick said, his eyes narrowed at his maker.

LaCroix shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I do not. For what it is worth, Nicholas, I... regret not keeping a closer watch on Dr. Lambert. She is quite a fascinating creature." He gave yet another patrician shrug. "Ah well, an oversight on my part. Nobody's perfect, after all. Do tell your mortal love I said hello."

After Nick turned on his heel and left, LaCroix once again curled up in his overstuffed chair. Cracking open his book once again, he mused, "Hmm. Not even a thank-you."

* * *

 _You can feel the dull crunch of the lead pipe as it is shoved underneath your ribs, ripping through flesh and crushing bone. The pain brings with it a loss of consciousness. When you wake on the hard ground, all you can think is to run away. You have underestimated him; he is older, stronger and a superior fighter. You shall not make such an error in judgment again._

* * *

Her long blonde hair pulled back in an unusually severe ponytail, she checked the length of rope, tugging at it with the strength a human would normally use. She nodded in grim satisfaction, as the rope held up against her brief test.

Placing the rope on the metal table with its twin, she then moved to the plank of wood. Cutting it in half longways provided two appropriately thin but still strong shafts roughly the width of a table leg.

Picking up one shaft of wood, she took up the whittling knife and began to cut away one end of each shaft of wood so they'd each have a sharp point. She used the aggression seething inside of her to aid her in her task, imagining the finished product put to its intended use.

The smile that came to her face was appropriately vicious. She had been beaten, humiliated by her failure in confronting him four years ago, and had departed for calmer parts to lick her wounds. It had taken her more time than she cared to admit to heal from the battle, and longer still to come up with a plan to best him.

She had watched him from a distance, for the past several years. She had stayed far enough away to avoid detection, but close enough to still keep tabs on him. She had seen him with his human friends and at his work as a police officer—and what a laugh that was. Did he _honestly_ decide one day that he was going to be a hero? As if that could actually make a difference, after what he'd done?

No, this life of unending darkness made villains out of men, not heroes. Heroes were the stuff of children's faerie tales. But the darkness that lurked within the human heart and with the monsters that lurked in the shadows made faerie tales impossible. There were no happy endings here, just blood and death and bone.

She knew better than to think that he'd gone soft... but he did _like_ certain humans now. Especially the one woman he always seemed to be with; a rather unremarkable thing who seemed to have eyes that were too big for her face. But the woman would be useful, of that she had no doubt.

Yes, her angel-faced demon had developed an Achilles' heel, and it took the form of that fragile human woman. _Natalie._ Quite a lovely name, actually. A pity it was wasted on a girl who consorted with _him._

What she intended to do with him was a foregone conclusion; the stage was nearly set and her plan, simple though it was, was nonetheless close to fruition. The real question was, what was she going to do with the woman after the deed was done? Should she try wiping her memory of him? Or should she just kill her and be done with it? It was entirely possible the woman had been _tainted_ by him and would refuse to believe she had been saved from a less pleasant fate.

A fate much like her own.

Mulling over her remaining options regarding the mortal Natalie, the vampiress flicked the stray bits of sawdust from her white pants and continued to whittle at the wood. As the shaft of wood began to reveal its sharp edge, Alexandra smiled.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 _"[...] he'd taken a tumble down Alice's rabbit hole to Wonderland."_ \- Slightly oblique reference to "Curiouser and Curiouser" (2.19).

 _"I can remember how I used to work with psychics before."_ \- Natalie, Nick and Schanke all worked with psychic Denise Fort in the episode "Dying to Know You" (1.07). A psychic named Ava also appeared in "Forward into the Past" (2.05), and Marian Blackwing, a First Nation psychic healer, appeared in "Blackwing" (3.04). There may have been other characters that may or may not had psychic inklings, but those are the big three.

 _"I'm not Psychic Friends Network material!"_ \- The Psychic Friends Network is a 1-900 number hotline service to speak to a psychic about your future. The company was started in 1991, and was frequently promoted in commercials and infomercials by singer Dionne Warwick. Many of the ads (which took the form of a faux talk-show and included the tagline, "All it takes is a telephone and an open mind!") ran during the commercial breaks in FK's episodes. The company, following some legal troubles, has since been relaunched and is now promoted by actress Vivica A. Fox.

 _"Tiger,"_ Natalie's term of endearment for Nick, showed up in the episode "Father Figure" (1.14). I don't know if she's ever repeated it since, but it definitely has lodged itself in my brain. :)

 _"He knew she was completely convinced that LaCroix was the very pinnacle of evil and he would never be able to convince her otherwise."_ \- Refers to a conversation Nick and Natalie had in "Francesca" (3.20). When Nick asks Natalie why LaCroix would want to mess with him by bringing back memories of the vampire Countess Francesca, Nat snarks back, "Uh, because he's _evil?_ [beat] Sorry."

 _"Don't worry, I'll watch my back."_ \- Nick said the very same words to Natalie prior to his confrontation with Divia in "Ashes to Ashes" (3.21). Hence, her comment about it not being comforting. :P

 _"Hmm. Not even a thank-you."_ A line previously spoken by LaCroix in "Baby, Baby."

 _Mortal Love_ is the title of the N &NPacker website, which in turn was lifted from LaCroix's soliloquy at the beginning of "Dark Knight: The Second Chapter" (1.02). _"What turn of the heart compels you to seek mortal love?"_

 _Oedipus Rex_ 's plot was best summed up as "Doing your mom and trying to kill your dad," by the vampire Angel's evil alter-ego Angelus in the Buffy spinoff _Angel_ (1999-2004).

The theory of resistors (people resistant to the vampires' hypnotic abilities) actually being dormant psychics is a bit of world-building I've welded onto the show's structure. Because, if you think about it, it really does make sense. And by that rubric, Natalie may be the most powerful untapped psychic, because she's the FK-verse's strongest resistor.


	5. Act IV

**NO REQUIEM**

by Melissa Treglia

 **Act IV**

Natalie continued to pace in the apartment, now because Nick was no longer there. Pieces of the memories that had been swimming around in her brain were finally beginning to fall into place together more clearly. Now it almost seemed like there hadn't been any problems in the clarity of her recollections to begin with, that there had been no cracks or missing pieces in the first place.

The sole exception was that damnable gap between when Nick bit her and when she woke up in the apartment. That was still a big black blob of nothing, and the more she pushed at it to reveal what it was hiding from her, the more resistance she met. Giving a very human growl of frustration, she kicked at the living room wall. The cheap drywall was punctured at the site where the toe of her shoe made impact and lose drywall shavings fell to the hardwood floor. She _hated_ not having control over her own mind!

"Goddammit, the human mind is not a toy!" she seethed. "I wish people would stop poking into mine like it's a game of Operation!"

With hours still ahead and only herself to keep her company, Natalie sighed. She reminded herself yet again Nick said he'd be gone for just a few hours. Then she determined to cease her pacing, bumping around, and generally getting in her own way. Instead, she went to the kitchenette for a drink to ease the tightness in her throat. Flipping open the cabinet doors offered her nothing to occupy her interest, and she finally opened the door to the small closet pantry. Glancing at the options—while silently reeling over the fact that the kitchenette was fully stocked without her doing much of anything to keep it so—she examined the packaged goods.

Everything was very neat in the apartment—too neat, as if it had never been lived in before she had arrived. For some reason, that bothered her far more than the neatly stocked pantry.

The only thing that caught her interest in the pantry was a box of teabags. _Of course,_ she thought. _You can't be in Merry Olde England without having a spot of tea._ But, sarcastic thoughts aside, the tea would likely help soothe her rattled nerves—she needed all the help she could get in that corner at the moment.

So, that much decided, she put on a pot of tea for herself, filling a teapot with water and setting it on a burner. Flicking the dial just slightly offered a small flame suitable for her purpose. Staring at the teapot, she noticed that its surface was decorated with geometric patterns that resembled a bisected octagon. Shrugging, she turned away from the teapot.

Now that that particular task was set for the moment, she wandered about the apartment in search of some temporary amusement. The furnishings, though quite pretty, had nothing to offer in terms of entertainment value. All of her personal items were still in her old apartment back in Toronto, and there was nothing to occupy herself with here beyond the necessary bedding and curtains. There weren't any books or video tapes present in the entirety of the apartment, not even a stray magazine or three floating around somewhere.

Not only that, but with the weather outside, she couldn't venture out to take in a show at the West End or even to go take a closer look at Big Ben and ride one of the trolleys. And with what she knew about the things that lurked in the dark, she didn't _want_ to go anywhere in a strange city without Nick by her side. After all, a vampire companion was the perfect deterrent against muggings.

Frustrated with her isolation and lack of mobility, she thought about turning on the television, but realized that her mind was in such a snarl of nebulous thoughts and half-formed ideas at the moment, that she wouldn't be able to take notice of anything she watched. Without really thinking about what she was doing, she flitted over to the curtains and pushed one aside to look out onto the city. It was really quiet out there, or as quiet as a European metropolis could possibly get. That also bothered her more than she wanted to admit to herself.

As nice of a city as London was, everything felt so _wrong_ to her here, as if she was wearing clothes that were the wrong size and in a style that simply didn't match her tastes. This city didn't fit her in the way that Toronto did. Toronto was home, it was where she had achieved her independence from her grandmother's control, where she had built a career working in a male-dominated field that, while not glamourous, paid well and did make a difference. Toronto was where she met Nick and her preconceived notions of the world around her had been utterly decimated, then rebuilt anew as she saw things that most humans could never peer far enough into the dark to see clearly.

An entire world had been made known to her in Toronto. To her, it wasn't just a place, it was renewal, revelations and, yes, a little romance too.

Her _whole life_ was in Toronto. Maybe she would be able to walk away from that town one day but, for now at least, it was where she truly belonged. She was a part of something there. Here in London, she was merely a Canadian tourist with no idea as to how she'd gotten there in the first place.

She wanted to go _home_. Maybe one day she would travel the world with Nick by her side, but that didn't have to be today.

Where was Nick? Did talking to LaCroix _really_ take that long? Were they fighting? What was LaCroix saying to him? Was he just goading Nick and wasting his time? Did LaCroix lock him in a basement to keep him away from her?

Realizing that, though worrying was getting her nowhere, there was really nothing else to do with herself here, she resumed her pacing. If nothing else, she could at least occupy herself by placing one foot in front of the other—going outside for a walk would have been a better solution for such a dilemma but, with the weather not being all that pleasant, she was all but forced to remain inside.

She could also probably do sit-ups… if her stomach wasn't feeling so queasy from nerves at the moment. No, it wasn't just nerves now—it was…

Natalie staggered back, nearly tripping as her vision began to swim. Within moments, she was crying out in agony and clutching at her head. Pain beat upon her skull with the ferocity of a sledgehammer, as her mind was suddenly buffeted by unfamiliar smells, sounds and sights. _An unadorned room, concrete walls with naked steel beams and a concrete floor. The distant smell of raw sewage. The rickety shudders of a nearby vent. A flash of blonde hair and a white pantsuit._

"Oh Nick," Natalie groaned as her awareness of her immediate surroundings came back to her. "Why'd you have to go out?" She leaned against the nearest table, rubbing at her forehead as if to will the pain away with a touch. Her skull seemed to reverberate with the agonizing echoes of the sudden influx of information, threatening to overload her.

"Okay, another painkiller would be good right about now."

After a deep exhalation of breath, she stood and made a step towards the bathroom, and the relief contained in the medicine cabinet.

Natalie jumped in alarm at the sudden sharp **_BOOM_** , followed by the splintered remains of her apartment's front door sailing into the room. She shrieked in astonishment and instinctively ducked to avoid the flying pieces of wood.

The intruder's footsteps upon entering the room were deceptively light. But the blonde hair and white outfit had haunted Natalie's dreams for some time now and, straightening up to her full height again, Natalie knew who she was facing.

"Hello, Natalie," said Alexandra. "I've heard so much about you."

Impotent with rage at the delayed warning of her latest vision, Natalie shouted at the ceiling while shaking a fist, "Thanks a lot! That was extraordinarily helpful!"

Caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place at that moment, Natalie did the only thing she could do. She picked up a piece of the destroyed door and swung it into Alexandra's face, using all the force and muscle Natalie could muster for the swing. The wood—and a few inhuman bones—gave a satisfying _crack_ in response. While the vampiress was stunned by the attack, Natalie bolted for the bedroom, her legs churning as fast as they could carry her.

She slammed the door shut and locked it, her heart pounding frantically in her chest. A closed door wouldn't stop a vampire, but it would slow Alexandra down by a few seconds. Natalie quickly searched the room for anything she might be able to defend herself with, but there was nothing to offer her any security. Well, unless she preferred to act like a child and hide under the blankets.

"Dammit!" she swore, after upturning most of the room and not finding anything that she could use to defend herself.

Alexandra simply performed an encore of the earlier door-breaking, this time knocking down the less-sturdy bedroom door with greater ease. Natalie refused to go quietly, scratching, kicking, and even _biting_ the other woman as Natalie was forcibly dragged out of the relative safety of the bedroom.

"Enough," the vampiress hissed, before backhanding her. The force behind the slap was so great, that Natalie saw stars as she felt her body begin to tilt and fall. Before she could hit the floor, the world around her went black.

* * *

Nick could sense it the moment he left the hotel—something was wrong, very wrong. He didn't know how he knew, but it had felt like one moment Natalie was there at the corner of his mind and in the next moment, she was gone. He didn't have the time to stop and wonder about the mental connection between them; he needed to find her first, and they could discuss this new development later. So at first he ran—then after he gained enough speed, he took flight with the precision of a particularly skilled military pilot. He all but dive-bombed toward Natalie's apartment, even as he was being pelted by the cold, unrelenting sheets of English rain.

His silent heart seemed to give one more palpitation—this time, in fear. The second he landed, he saw that Natalie's apartment door had been kicked down. As he went inside the dwelling, he noted that there were painfully obvious signs of a struggle—the presence of overturned furniture and shattered glass dominating the living space. The teapot on the stove was whistling frantically, having been left unattended.

He removed the teapot from the burner and, in the silence, slowly began searching about the front room, looking for clues as to her abductor and a possible location. After a moment, he found what he was looking for—there was a little blood that belonged to Natalie (not enough to indicate serious injury, thankfully) and more blood that belonged to a vampire.

The smell of the vampire blood he instantly recognized due to Natalie's precognitive warnings. Alexandra had taken Natalie.

The growl that issued from his throat was a deep, feral rumble and his eyes glowed with the fire of his fury as he zoomed out of the door and leapt into the air. It was one thing for Alexandra to take her vengeance upon him, it was entirely another to involve Natalie in her scheme. He would repay in kind every blow that Natalie had been given, every sting would be returned to its source.

The two scents clear in his mind, he began to make his way around the city, tracking down his quarry with the ancient abilities of his species. The rain was going to make that difficult, but he'd be damned all over again if such a minor thing as _weather_ would stop him from aiding the woman he loved.

* * *

Natalie groaned as she came to, slowly taking in her surroundings. She was sitting on a hard concrete floor, and surrounded by aged concrete walls. There was the smell of garbage, just like in her vision, and she knew London's sewers weren't too far beyond where she was at the moment. When her still somewhat befuddled brain registered that two lengths of rope were keeping her arms bound behind her back and her ankles together, she instinctively jerked at her restraints, but to no avail. The knots held up, keeping her nearly immobile and helpless as an earthworm on a fisherman's hook.

"Oh, good!" Alexandra purred, sharpening an already-sharp stake with a whittling knife. "I was hoping you'd be awake for this. It's not every day I get to return the favor to the man who killed me."

"Oh, goodie," Natalie replied sardonically, groaning as she tried to sit up straight, before cocking a shoulder against the wall. The concrete was cold, but it was slightly better to prop her shoulder onto it than to attempt leaning back with her arms sandwiched behind her. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

Alexandra didn't respond, apparently too intent on fine-tuning her makeshift weaponry.

Feeling the silence sink in around her like the stinking miasma circulating in the nearby sewers, Natalie remarked, "Didn't your first plan consist of pretending you were Casper, followed by waiting, then some more waiting, then finally run-straight-at-him-and-hope-you-don't-miss?" She snorted. "Brilliant strategy there, General Patton. No wonder you lost."

Alexandra didn't look up from her work, but her tone was particularly venomous, a warning for the mortal not to press her luck. "I don't expect you to understand. After all, you love him, don't you?" That last was accompanied by a sneer.

"Don't sound so disgusted," Natalie replied, while fondly picturing Nick's face in her mind's eye. "It's not like we get to choose who we fall in love with." And, Natalie, for all the chaos that tended to follow in Nick's wake, wouldn't have it any other way. No matter what Nick had done back in the days of powdered wigs and shiny swords, he had grown and changed from his wealth of life experience. He wasn't perfect, but he was one of the good guys now.

Alexandra scoffed outright at that. "Love is for children."

"And revenge is for idiots who've got _way_ too much time on their hands," Natalie shot back, still yanking away at her bindings. The ropes weren't only well-tied, they were also _tight_ and, if nothing else, she at least wanted to be sure her circulation wasn't cut off.

There was no response to her snarky comment. Not that Natalie needed one.

Glancing up, Natalie saw that there was only one real entrance, a ladder which led to the streets above and was capped by a manhole cover. The ventilation shaft to Natalie's immediate left was far too thin for anything person-sized to get through. The manhole was the only direction it would be possible for anyone to come from, as the room that they were in was more of an oubliette. The analytical portion of Natalie's brain determined that this particular space must have been walled up some time ago, as the sewer system was rerouted over the years to suit modern conveniences.

"So what's the plan this time?" Natalie asked, fighting to stay calm. "Use me as bait to get him here, then hope you can kill him before he can kick your ass from here to Oshkosh? I mean, 'cause that's not exactly a great plan either."

"It will serve its purpose."

"Uh-huh. So what, exactly, do you plan on doing after you kill him? I mean, assuming you can. Go to Disneyland? Take up foosball?" Natalie took a longer, more lingering look at the metal table—the only furniture present—and noticed the second stake. "Don't you think _two_ stakes is a little overkill? I mean, one will do the job just fine on its own."

Alexandra finally glanced at Natalie and, for the first time, Natalie saw how truly _empty_ the other woman's eyes were. The vampiress had nothing else to focus on and give her life meaning, because there was nothing she had left within her. "Oh," Natalie said, her voice suddenly very small and quiet. "The second stake... It's for you, isn't it? You're planning to take him out before you go." Pointedly adopting a falsely cheerful tone, Natalie added, "You know, you _could_ just skip to the end and save yourself the effort."

"No," Alexandra said, her tone emotionless. "Finding him and making him pay for what he did has been the work of my whole existence. I searched for him for centuries, only to fail in my task. I had to wait to heal, before I could try again. And I must try again. Once I kill him, I can finally be at peace."

After that soliloquy, Natalie felt an unexpected and unwelcome pang of sympathy for her captor. Alexandra had nothing and no one in her life that mattered. Everything that had once been of importance to her was long gone. "It must have been hard, to be so alone," Natalie said finally. "To not have anything to live for other than revenge."

The sound of the manhole cover being ripped away stopped her musing in its tracks. When she looked up, she was greeted with the most beautiful image Natalie had ever seen.

Nick easily dropped down into the oubliette, his jacket briefly flapping like a pair of black wings. "Hello, Alexandra." Though his words were cordial, his tone was not.

Natalie grinned in relief and, turning to Alexandra, said, "Looks like he got your invite, kiddo."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 _"I wish people would stop poking into [my mind] like it's a game of Operation!"_ \- LaCroix successfully manipulated Natalie's memories in "Be My Valentine." She alleges to Nick the next day that she couldn't remember from the moment she walked into the Azure, until the moment Nick took her home in a cab. Nick also mentioned that LaCroix has methods to get around a resistor's mental defenses in "Ashes to Ashes." Such methods may or may not include plying the target with drugged food/drink, as the fandom later hypothesized regarding Natalie's memory-wipe in "Be My Valentine."

 _"[...] she had achieved her independence from her grandmother's control [...]"_ \- Reference to the episode "Dead of Night" (3.14), where it is revealed that Natalie's grandmother hit her on at least one occasion, and that Natalie was so angered by her grandmother's (possibly outright abusive) behavior that Nat refused to visit her grandmother when the old woman lay dying in the hospital. Further, Natalie admits that she spent her whole life waiting for an apology from her grandmother... one that did not come during the woman's life.

 _"Toronto was where she met Nick and her preconceived notions of the world around her had been utterly decimated"_ \- "Only the Lonely," again.

 _"A closed door wouldn't stop a vampire [...]"_ \- Natalie learned this bit of unpleasantness when she was pursued by the young vampire Spark in "A More Permanent Hell" (2.25).

 _"Love is for children."_ \- Originally said by my favorite MCU character Black Widow, in _The Avengers_ (2012). Of course, it's out of the original context; why do you ask? ;)

Oshkosh is a town in the US state of Wisconsin.

"Foosball" is another name for table soccer, a popular table-top game commonly seen in arcades and bars.

An "oubliette" is a type of dungeon where the only exit is located in the ceiling, which is usually covered or barred and can be easily guarded.

General George S. Patton (1885-1945) was the highly-decorated commander of the United States Army during World War II, and is best known for how he dealt with the Invasion of Normandy.


	6. Act V

**NO REQUIEM**

by Melissa Treglia

 **Act V**

"Nicholas," Alexandra's response of merely saying his name came out as more of a sibilant hiss. Her eyes flashed and she began to circle around him in the age-old movement of an apex predator. She looked like a nightmare in white satin. "It's so good to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same about you." Nick told her, countering each step she made with a sidestep of his own. His dark clothing provided an interesting visual counterpoint to Alexandra's that probably would have confused the hell out of anyone who wasn't already in the know. It was like some Backwards Day version of Obi-Wan Kenobi versus Darth Vader, but with fangs instead of lightsabers.

Nick turned to Natalie. "Sorry it took me so long, Nat. The rain washed away most of the trail. I had to double back a few times to pick up the scent again." Nick then glared at Alexandra. "And, she crisscrossed her trail a few times just to confuse me."

Natalie shrugged, acting calmer than she actually felt even though her stomach was doing flip-flops with relief at seeing him here. Not that she had ever doubted for an instant that he'd come for her; she knew he would have done whatever it took to find her. He was her bona fide Knight in moderately-rusted armor. "You're still here, though. Just in time for the party, too."

"Exactly," Alexandra sneered. She then gritted her teeth and glared at him, the fingers holding the stake twitching slightly as if poised to scratch a particularly persistent itch. "I decided not to make the same mistake twice. Last time, we were on _your_ territory. I thought an arena of my choosing would be more appropriate this evening. This way, the only way to leave is to survive."

Nick shrugged and, with mock coolness, replied, "Well, as battle plans go, it doesn't suck. But, in the interest of fairness, I'm not going to make this easy for you."

"Oh I was hoping you wouldn't—I would so enjoy a good fight. And the best part? This time, we have both an audience and a prize." She jerked her head in Natalie's direction.

"Winner takes it all, huh?" he replied dryly. But the snappy remark couldn't conceal the worry in his eyes for Natalie's well-being. "Natalie has nothing to do with this, Alexandra. Your problem is with me, not her."

"You're right," she replied, throwing the whittling knife back down onto the table and brandishing her stake. "It is."

The speed at which Alexandra attacked him was far too fast for Natalie's human mind to interpret as anything other than a blur of motion. But the roars and howls of the two vampires attacking one another made it sound more like a pair of wolves challenging one another for the position of the pack's Alpha than people with superpowers.

Frantically, Natalie twisted within the ropes, as she tried to figure out a way to loosen her bindings, her palms beginning to sweat with the effort she'd already put them through.

Natalie looked up for a moment to see Nick and Alexandra matching each other move for move; for every punch that one threw, the other blocked it. They were fully engaged in a wild flurry of flying fists and feet. For a moment, Nick was able to find an opening in Alexandra's defense and swept her feet out from under her with his long leg.

Alexandra fell but flipped herself back into a standing position, but the delay was long enough for Nick to take her by surprise and launch her into the metal table. The table, not stable enough to handle the sudden addition of such weight, crashed to the floor. Alexandra tumbled to the ground along with the extra stake and the whittling knife.

Relieved that Nick had the advantage of his soldier's acumen, Natalie renewed her consideration of her own predicament. Natalie _had_ seen the whittling knife fall to the floor. Recognizing the tool she needed to get out of her bindings, she began to wriggle her body across the floor and over toward the upturned table. Natalie was half-certain she must have looked like something out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but how it looked wasn't as important as any results she could attain.

She had to get out of the restraints. She was useless this way.

The fight between the two vampires had been rejoined, and they were beginning to outright pummel each other in earnest. The cacophony of bones snapping and spontaneously healing, only to be broken again, filled the air like some demented and grotesque calliope out of Stephen King's nightmares.

Natalie continued her sojourn across the floor, trying her best to dodge the continued clash of two of the eventide's titans.

She looked up and briefly saw Nick taking a full-forced punch to the kidney. He was now getting hammered by his opponent, but he was able to stop the onslaught by grabbing Alexandra's ponytail and yanking hard enough that any human would have been instantly scalped. Then he headbutted Alexandra and she reeled momentarily.

Wincing at the hair-pulling tactic in sympathy, Natalie quickly continued her journey. She was so very close now. Nick briefly saw what she was doing and spared the one critical second of Alexandra's disorientation to kick the whittling knife the rest of the way to Natalie's side. Before he could do anything more for her, however, Alexandra leapt onto his back.

Grateful for Nick's intervention (and keeping her spirits up by joking in her own mind that that kick had been part of the half-time show), Natalie turned herself around and attempted to grab the whittling knife without actually _seeing_ it. With her bound hands, she imagined it would take awhile.

The fight was still going on behind her, the sounds of snarls and snapping and collisions of either flesh on flesh or flesh on concrete needled at her ears. From Nick's deeper _basso_ growls, she guessed that he hadn't even come close to running out of steam yet. But, from Alexandra's more shrill roaring, neither had _she_ lost her ammunition.

Success! Natalie grasped the whittling knife and, while trying to keep a firm hold on it, shifted its position so she could begin to saw at the rope.

Alexandra grabbed a hold of the metal ladder and used it as leverage to swing her legs up into a firm kick. Nick's body was propelled into one of the bare steel columns. When Alexandra swung at him, he dodged her by swinging himself onto the opposite side of the column. Then, using her ponytail as a lead rein, he slammed her face right into the steel.

The impact made a forehead-shaped dent in the metal, and Alexandra stumbled back, dizzied. Straightening out in short order, Alexandra again used her surroundings as leverage, this time using the support of the column to get enough height to kick him in the face.

Natalie was still sawing away at her bindings with the whittling knife, but the rope was sufficiently weakened that her hands were freed. Not wasting another moment, she immediately got started on the bindings holding her ankles together.

The fight between the two vampires was still raging on with no signs of slowing down, and their every strike and counterstrike was progressively becoming more and more savage. It would have been impossible for anything human to survive, with the way they were waling on each other.

Vampires were extraordinarily vicious, efficient and brutal killers. All veneers of civility aside, at heart their kind were animals with the intelligence of humans. They were monsters, and they fought like monsters—ripping, tearing, slashing and mauling to pieces anything that stood in their way.

Natalie knew Nick's part of the fight was because Alexandra had kidnapped her. It amazed her how he was capable of a bloody shower of violence in Natalie's name, but still hesitated to say the L-word.

But then again, he'd been a warrior for the better part of eight hundred years. He understood the language of battle better than most. Unfortunately, she could almost see the point where LaCroix thought Nick would make an ideal vampire. The man was practically born to be a walking, talking weapon.

Nick was doing this for her, not for the sake of fighting in and of itself. He was trying to protect her, to show her he cared in the only way he really knew how.

Natalie distantly wondered if she'd actually be safer in a tiger cage during the zoo's feeding time than being anywhere near those two. But the rope around her ankles came undone and, tossing the rope aside, she quickly scrambled for the extra stake laying unobtrusively on the floor.

She looked up in time to see Nick get thrown against one of the concrete walls, his body crumpling to the ground… and this time, it looked like he might not be able to get back up. Alexandra was stalking towards him, the stake in her hand brandished high.

Natalie snatched up the remaining stake and ran toward Alexandra, but the vampiress heard her coming and swatted her aside like an insect. Fortunately, the distraction was enough for Nick to get to his feet and renew his attack.

Natalie scrambled to her feet, to see the two vampires tussling. She could only stand for a moment, in hopes of being given an opening, her head going back and forth between the two like a tennis spectator. Then Alexandra got in a lucky blow.

The stake in the Alexandra's hand went through his chest, only barely missing Nick's heart by a few inches. Furious, Natalie threw herself back into the fray, running toward Alexandra at full tilt. Her body collided with the other woman's, throwing them both off balance and to the floor.

The sickening crack of wood tearing through flesh reverberated around them. Alexandra's face was wide, her mouth a surprised O. The vampiress seemed to crumple in on herself, the light steadily fading from her eyes. Her blonde hair faded then cracked into powder, her skin tightened then tore like rice paper, until nothing was left but a pile of bones. After another moment, those were gone as well.

"Nobody pokes at Nick but me," Natalie panted, her bones feeling like jelly. She was torn between wanting to throw up and wanting to cry in relief that it was all over.

Nick gave a pained laugh at her remark and, when Natalie dropped to her knees by his side, he smiled despite what had to be considerable agony. "You put on quite a show there, Buffy. I think monster hunting may be in your future."

She smiled back at him in spite of her worry, her hands moving toward the stake in his chest. "I'll pull it out for you, okay?"

"Okay," he panted. His fists were clenched tight with the obvious effort to not rip it out himself. "But you might want to hurry. It's not at my heart, but there's no telling what can happen with a stray splinter."

Natalie could hear the odd pops and sucking sounds of his flesh healing around the stake. If she delayed any longer, it would be stuck and she'd have to rip it out with more force.

Putting both hands around the stake, she used the weight of her body to pull it out. He gave a tortured bellow at the wrenching of the wound. The removal of the stake made a disgusting _sloosh_ sound, and the battered flesh gradually began the trek back to sealing itself.

"Well, I think you'll live," Natalie told him, her smile widening with her relief. She gently ran her hand along his face. "But I think you might want to go easy on the deathmatches for awhile."

"I can't argue with that one," he replied, attempting to get to his feet. But he was too unsteady, and Natalie had to aid him by looping his arm around her shoulders. He tried to lean as lightly as he could against her, so she wouldn't have to cope with the full brunt of his weight, but it was clear that he was exhausted and still in a great deal of pain. For once, she was glad he wasn't human—the fight would have most definitely killed him if he had been.

"I'll take a closer look at your wounds when we get back," Natalie said. "Your prescription for the next few days is to stay at home and vegetate on the couch, and not get up for any reason, until you're completely healed."

"Doctor's orders?"

"Yup. Doctor's orders," she replied, sighing out her own exhaustion.

What followed was a slow climb up the metal ladder, and out onto the street.

It broke her heart to see him in this bad a shape—she hadn't seen him so done in since the anti-AIDS virus had swept through the vampire community, and that had been an internal enemy, not an external one. He was always so strong, that it was a shock to have to aid him just so he could walk steadily. She'd seen him endure being creamed by an Uzi with less strain.

But he was the one who was still in one piece, while Alexandra was dust on the concrete floor. He was the one who'd survived impossible odds before, even while still human. He hadn't told her about his time in the Holy Land, but she'd done enough research on the topic to know that his tour of duty hadn't been all sunshine and puppies. Those battles had been some of the bloodiest in history, and he'd survived them. He may not realize it for himself but, that kind of strength, the kind made of a titanium backbone and a sheer determination to survive, wasn't altogether a bad thing to possess.

Whatever the case, they were _both_ going to take a nice long nap. It was definitely much-needed and well-deserved on both their parts.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 _"[...] she hadn't seen him so done in since the anti-AIDS virus had swept through the vampire community [...]"_ \- The main plot of the episode "Fever" (3.13).

 _"She'd seen him endure being creamed by an Uzi with less strain."_ \- Nick was shot with one of these by a coked-out maniac in "Dark Knight" (1.01).

 _"He hadn't told her about his time in the Holy Land [...]"_ \- Allusion to the backstory created by Jim Parriott which, sadly, never made it into an actual episode and was only briefly mentioned at several points in the series, without anything definitive being added. I'd say more on this, but I'm saving it for a future Season 4 "episode." :)

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader are from the _Star Wars_ franchise (duh!).

Backwards Day officially occurs annually on January 31st. Just like the name implies, you do everything you'd normally do on a normal day, only backwards. Like the good guy of the story wearing black instead of white. ;)

The "half-time show" is the music and performance interlude of a team sport that's typically played in two halves (such as American football). The Super Bowl, the annual championship game of the NFL, has particularly elaborate half-time shows with very high-profile entertainers.

The film _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ starred Kristy Swanson in the title role, and was released to movie theaters on July 31, 1992. FK was already six episodes into its initial run on CBS by that point. The first Buffy TV episode aired in March 1997, one year after FK's cancellation.


	7. Epilogue

**NO REQUIEM**

by Melissa Treglia

 **Epilogue**

"Feel better?" she asked, as she removed the last of the absorbent pads from his flesh.

"Much," he replied. "I should be ready to go in two more days."

She smiled. "Good. Alexandra did quite a number on you." She neatly folded up the pads before tossing them in the trash, avoiding his gaze the whole while.

"Nat, what's wrong?"

She shrugged. "I... felt kinda bad for her, really."

Nick raised his hand, gently tucking back that stray lock of hair. "I know. And she did have a point; I _was_ the one who killed her. But I'm not the one who made a monster out of her." When Nat still avoided his gaze, he added, "Nat? I know it sounds harsh... but you've known from the start that I'm no angel."

Natalie finally looked up at him. "I know. But still... for a moment, I could have been like her. She was so lost and in pain, and... it was like seeing my reflection in a funhouse mirror. I could've ended up like her... You know?"

"I know. But you didn't. Because you're bigger than that."

She nodded, and he gave her his customary kiss on the temple.

"Oh, Nat? There's something I forgot to mention," he said, his sea-light blue eyes twinkling with an almost childlike anticipation. "Awhile back I got these." He stretched an arm over to where his jacket was deposited and, after rifling through the pockets, he pulled out an envelope. Wordlessly, he handed it to her.

Puzzled, she opened the envelope and pulled out its contents. Four tickets were inside. Two were for a trip back to Toronto, and the others…

"You got tickets for Phantom at Her Majesty's Theatre?!" she cried, her eyes wide and shining.

He grinned. "Yeah. Would you like to go with me? Before we head back to Home Sweet Home?"

She threw her arms around him and, after a quick apology when he gave a pained grunt, she said, "Are you kidding? I'd love to!"

* * *

Miss Owens strode into the laboratory. "Harlan, are we up and running, or no?"

Harlan, still twitching nervously, but looking rather pleased with himself, agreed. "Yes, ma'am, we are."

Miss Owens nodded. "Good. Now Phase Two can begin."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Her Majesty's Theatre in London is owned by Andrew Lloyd Webber's Really Useful Group, and the theatre has been home to _The Phantom of the Opera_ since the musical's West End debut in 1986.

I hope you enjoyed this piece! Please favourite and/or comment if you enjoyed it and, if you didn't... well, comment anyway, and let me know where I went wrong, so I'll know for next time. Also, if you want more of my Season 4, make sure to follow me on your FFnet profile or on AO3 (same username in both places)!

As always, thanks to BrightKnightie aka Amy R. for helming the FKFicFest. Your enthusiasm for our sleepy little fandom lights the creative fires in all of us. Here's to the next eight hundred years together!


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